


Coffee Between Consultants

by Classified_Information



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee, Coffee Obviously, Established Relationship, Flirting, Funny, Guns, Hotel Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seductive Jim, Seductive Sherlock, Sexual Content, Sheriarty - Freeform, So Much Flirting Omg, a lot of it actually, consulting boyfriends, jimlock, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2819408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classified_Information/pseuds/Classified_Information
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two consultants spend the night in a luxury 5 star hotel and the following morning drink coffee, chat and flirt... seem harmless enough?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SD_Ryan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SD_Ryan/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rainy day hotel boredom leads to random conversations and flirting.
> 
> 'Sherlock, if I was one of these coffees, which one would I be?'  
> 'Um… Espresso.'  
> 'Espresso?'  
> 'Well, you are both rather short and bitter.'

As they sipped at coffees on the veranda of their suite, Moriarty carelessly twirled a loaded firearm around his index finger, teasing the idea in his head of aiming and firing at random civilians and causing chaos in the street below; the thought of being able to accomplish this without leaving his hotel room amused him. He smirked.

'James, now isn't exactly the time for that,' muttered the delective as he observed the criminal. Jim's eyes flicked over him.

'Isn't the time for what, Sherl?' he asked with a sudden look of puzzled innocence. Sherlock sighed out a cloud of chilled air then took another drink of his cooling coffee. He looked down at the grey street beneath them, then over grey buildings that rose and fell in front of them, then at grey smoke that drifted upwards towards a grey sky. Oh, how dull it looked.

_Perhaps a splash of colour would improve it after all..._

Sherlock quickly shook his head of the thought. Clearly his new relationship with Moriarty was having affect on him.

‘You know precisely what,’ he said, smiling slightly. Jim dropped his act with a laugh and set his gun down on the table between them. He picked up his cup and raised it to his grinning lips. One gulp finished it. Licking his lips of the residue, he stood.

'Refill?'

Sherlock hummed in thought then concluded with a nod before handing over his cup. Jim slid between tall glass doors, back into their rich suite.

Upon arriving late in the afternoon the day before, the two men found their suite to be immaculate, orderly and precise, and very welcoming, a grand testament to 5-star living. The lounge was luxurious and open: three tall arched windows, partially covered by white drapes, decorated the right wall with the middle window leading out onto the balcony. There was a mini bar full of snacks but mostly of liqueurs - which Jim had announced he'd happily pay for if Sherlock wanted anything to drink, however Sherlock declined the offer. Jim's attempt of encouraging him to get drunk was not as subtle in the detective's eyes as he thought.

The bedroom was smaller yet equally impressive: black and beaded silk was smoothly spread over the bed while two plump feather pillows resting against the headboard cushioned two small mint chocolates. Then, however, as Jim strolled past the bedroom door and glanced in, he smirked at the disarranged bed sheets, at the pillows flung to the other side of the room, and at a bedside lamp that had been knocked from its table and was now lying broken on the rug. His sigh was full of content as he made his way to the coffee machine at the bar. As he refilled Sherlock's cup, he found and picked up a small menu card of different coffees, which is when the detective decided to join him.

'It's started to rain,' he informed Jim, irritancy lacing his voice, as he shut and locked the door, 'and it doesn't look like it'll stop anytime soon.'

'Oh, well…' mumbled Jim whilst studying the card. He then grinned. 'Sherlock, if I was one of these coffees, which one would I be?'

The detective carefully placed Jim's gun on the bar. He was confused but smiled at the criminal's peculiar question.

'What?'

'It's just a game, dear.'

Nodding, Sherlock took the little menu from Jim and read over it with consideration. 'Um… Espresso.'

'Espresso?'

'Well, you _are_ both rather short and bitter,' Sherlock smirked at his comparison but Jim's eager smile vanished. 'Oh, please, that was funny… Now which would I be?'

The detective picked up and tasted his fresh coffee with a satisfied hum.

'You'd be something bitter, too, and you can't deny that. Although, you'd be _tall_ ,' Jim turned to refill his own drink in the machine before continuing. 'Hmm, probably something strong, dark… Not decaf, goodness, no,' he smiled, paused. 'But definitely hot.'

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'You think so?'

'Oh, yes, of course.'

'Is there anything on the menu that fits your description?' Sherlock scanned the card.

Jim shrugged. 'I don't know if there's anything dark, most likely there is, however I prefer my coffee with a little cream,' he smirked, tearing the plastic cover off a small pot of cream. 'Unfortunately for you.'

Sherlock caught on immediately but didn't say a word.

'It weakens the coffee, yes,' Jim continued in a soft, low lilt. He poured the cream into his cup where it, as it danced in thick clouds, turned his coffee from dark auburn to light tan. 'But, Sherlock dear, if you were my coffee I'd simply _adore_ watching you weaken for me.'

Sherlock licked over his lips and couldn't help but smile. 'You cheeky bastard…'

With that, Jim shrugged and slowly made his way over to the bedroom door; a teasing swish in his walk pulled the detective with him, leaving two freshly made coffees to go to waste.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the smut.
> 
> 'Oh, dear… It seems that I've let my coffee spill. Which is a shame because I was so looking forward to enjoying a nice, hot drink…'

It always started slow, but the start could last forever if Jim was in charge, which he was. Every kiss under his ear and bite along his jaw, every soft growl from Jim whenever he tugged at his hair, and every agonisingly slow thrust reduced Sherlock to quiet but desperate whimpers. The endless teasing was beginning to feel torturous, especially when the detective knew Jim could have carried on that way for the entire time. However, after one hard and sudden push from Jim, Sherlock gratefully released a strained moan from his throat, followed by pleading pants for more. Jim obliged.

'Oh, God, don't stop, please don't st- _Ahh_!'

The criminal panted and mumbled gently against the other's lips. 'This… Is what I wanted… You weaken like this… And all for me…'

Sherlock could not manage a reply, instead he writhed under him, arching his back and grinding himself against his once psychotic enemy with eager moans. He often remind himself of that fact; that at one point in their past they both felt a strong desire to end the other's life. Sherlock was not entirely sure when that particular desire ended and their… _new_ desires began. Although, he was never able to dwell on the thought for very long anyway before it was thoroughly shagged out of him, along with any other cares and ideas he may have had in mind at the time.

Jim nudged back Sherlock's head as he kissed and nipped at his collarbone, then realised it distracted him and put him off pace; he thrust forcefully with a groan. The enthused and beautifully pornographic gasps pouring from his partner and the way he frantically gripped the sheets were almost enough to tip Jim over the edge, but he controlled himself. But as he gradually slowed again, Jim fumbled about trying to slip his hand between them, where he brushed over and loosely wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's cock. The sounds that burst from the detective as he stroked him were, Jim thought, nothing short of absolutely fucking gorgeous.

 _That_ was when Jim could not contain himself any longer.

With one final thrust, he spilled into Sherlock, crying out a long and definitive moan. It took a minute for him to steady his breathing, a time in which Sherlock came as well, all hot, sticky and dripping against both of their stomachs.

'Oh, dear…' Jim sighed at last. 'It seems that I've let my coffee spill.'

Sherlock choked a laugh through trying to catch his own breath.

'Which is a shame because I was _so_ looking forward to enjoying a nice, hot drink…'

Kissing Sherlock's forehead, Jim pulled out and pushed himself up onto his knees.

'I'll remember that for next time, then, shall I?' Sherlock grinned tiredly.

'Please do,' the other said looking towards the clock. 'Now. Lunch, dear?'


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch time! To the dining hall...
> 
> 'So, what can I help you two gentlemen with today? Would you like drinks to start; hot or cold?'  
> 'Um, yes, can I have... An espresso?'  
> 'Yes, sir. With or without cream?'  
> 'Oh, I think with.'

Disguises were necessary; they were both still far too recognisable to be seen in public and especially to be seen together. After showering, they dressed for lunch; Jim in an oversized light grey hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black skinny jeans, and to boot he kept his hair wildly untidy from drying it with a towel, he also skipped shaving, which left his jaw line covered with dark stubble. Jim had arranged an entire outfit for Sherlock, however simply slicking and combing back his hair then putting on a pair of round glasses seemed to be enough for the detective. And besides, he said looking over Jim's appearance, at least one of us should look sophisticated enough to belong in a 5-star hotel. Jim huffed.

The dining room was vast with high ceilings; a row of four chandeliers dripping with diamonds hanged above them all; windows like those in the consultants' suite but grander spanned the entire length of the wall and filled the room with light. Out of the hundred or so tables in the place the couple fancied the one in the far right corner, as it was out of the way of the hotel's other guests and their snobbish babble.

'Good afternoon, gentleman,' smiled a waiter, 'anything I can help you with? Can I get you a menu?'

Sherlock nodded as he and Jim sat down. The two looked around the room, observing everything.

'So, what can I help you two gentlemen with today? Would you like drinks to start? Hot or cold?' the waiter asked when he returned with their menus.

'Could I have a tea? Milk with one sugar,' Jim decided. With a nod and a smiling "of course, sir," the waiter looked over at Sherlock, who smirked when he thought of his choice.

'Um, yes, can I have… An espresso?'

Jim's eyes flicked up from his menu. He listened intently.

'Yes, sir. With or without cream?'

Sherlock turned slightly to face his partner and he answered in a casual purr. 'Oh, I think _with_.'

As the waiter turned and left, a craving flooded over Sherlock and he leaned in closer to Jim, his cheek brushed against Jim's stubble covered jaw, and whispered. 'Have a light lunch, you'll need your appetite for later…' He softly kissed under Jim's ear, making him shiver.

'Sherlock,' Jim nervously watched the crowd of other guests and hoped no one was watching them, 'don't do that, everyone will see. We're already risking it just being together.'

The detective smirked but continued kissing and growled in a low voice. 'But, James, it's _my turn_.'

'Back in our room, yes…'

Sherlock looked up at him. 'We'll have to hurry here, then.'

Jim smiled. 'Oh, of course. I'm just trying to keep us low profile while we're in here.'

'Since when has keeping a low profile been a priority of yours?' Sherlock sat up straight in his seat again.

'Since I found out fucking you is a lot better than trying to kill you and since I don't want us getting caught like this.'

They both smiled and Sherlock let out a gentle chuckle. He was reminded of their past again and what they had both been through when Jim mentioned it. Comparing their lives then to their lives now was a completely bizarre thing. It felt, to Sherlock, as if he was trying to recall a dream, a once vivid dream that haunted him but over time had faded into a blurred and confused memory. He glanced up at Jim, who he saw was smiling adoringly at him with bright eyes, and found it exceptionally difficult to believe that he was the same psychotic spider who had ruined his reputation and, on several occasions, tried to have him and his closest friends murdered. He was only just starting to think over this thought again when he felt Jim's fingers trail delicately over his thigh under the table and captured him leaning closer out of the corner of his eye. Jim's unpredictability was what made Sherlock's heart race faster in anticipation and what caused his train of thought to yet again derail.

'But, I mean, if you _really_ can't help yourself then I do understand, and if you're _insisting_ on foreplay here and now…'

Sherlock smiled wickedly. 'What about our low profile?'

'We'll keep it low profile, obviously,' Jim sat straight again but shuffled his chair closer. Sliding his hand away from Sherlock's thigh, he rested both his elbows on the table. 'But you did say that you were in charge so whatever you do you'll have to make it subtle.'

'Subtlety will be difficult…' the detective started. 'Not for me, though, but we both know how vocal you can get.'

Jim pressed his lips together firmly so that they resembled a thin line on his face then raised his eyebrows, as if unamused and a tad embarrassed that Sherlock let out his secret but wasn't sure how to argue with him.

'You're not denying it?' grinned Sherlock.

'Hmm…'

Sherlock laughed as their waiter returned with their drinks.

'Tea for you, sir, and here's a pot for refilling,' he set down Jim's cup of tea, along with a fresh pot and a jug of milk on a small silver tray in front of him. 'And, other sir, here's your espresso. If you want a refill there's a coffee machine right over there,' he smiled and pointed out a coffee machine to Sherlock. The two thanked him and he scurried off, leaving them alone again with their wonderfully naughty plan.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So lunch continues...
> 
> 'I thought you'd at least stop if people came over…'  
> 'Why would I do that?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE THAT : I added the slightest little bit to the end of Chapter Three because this chapter was getting too long and I'm trying to keep each chapter under 1000 words. Idk why, I just am.

Jim tasted his drink as he eyed over Sherlock, who took off his fake glasses to clean them.

'You look far smarter without those on; I think just the slicked back hair is enough of a disguise for you, dear,' remarked the criminal.

Sherlock set the glasses on the table.

'Thank God, they're horrible, aren't they? I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror on the way downstairs…' he finished his sentence by rolling his eyes and groaning and Jim laughed. The detective then turned in his seat and his leg brushed against his partner's, which ceased his laughing.

He surprised Jim by asking in a deep, growling voice, 'Now, are you ready?'

'Oh. Um, yes, I think so,' Jim's eyes darted around the room warily but he added sharply, 'and I'll keep quiet.'

With one hand, Sherlock gently trailed his fingertips up and down Jim's thigh, and with the other he picked up and sipped his espresso. The tickle of his touch made Jim shift in his seat and in an attempt to cover it he drank more of his tea. It was at this moment that their waiter returned yet again, this time to take their orders.

'I'll have the… French onion soup, please,' Sherlock concluded with a smile.

As their completely oblivious waiter scribbled down the order on a pad and turned to Jim, Sherlock's hand crawled slowly upwards towards Jim's crotch. The criminal's cheeks burned red.

'Uhm… I'll have- ' Sherlock gave him a light squeeze and a whimper escaped his lips, 'Ah- I'll just have the same!' He gave up on his order, he didn't even like onion soup but he couldn't think straight because of _Holmes_... The waiter smiled oddly at him, then at Sherlock, before going off. Crossing his arms on the table and resting his forehead on top of them, Jim let out heavy sigh. 'I thought you'd at least stop if people came over…'

'Why would I do that?' Sherlock smirked with excitement glimmering in his green eyes. He continued to palm Jim, who was now sitting on his chair with his legs slightly apart, through his tightening jeans. The criminal ached but tried his best not to moan and groan. Although successful in that, he could not stop his cheeks from turning that delightful crimson that made Sherlock smirk.

...

A few minutes passed and in that time, between Jim pretending to whisper something to Sherlock when instead he was leaning in to nip at the soft skin under his ear as a sort of playful revenge for trying to embarrass him before, the detective thought of a wicked idea. He set down his coffee cup, picked up his stirring spoon, and flung it to the ground where it bounced with a soft clang under the table. Curiously, Jim furrowed his brow and watched him.

'What are you doing?'

'Nothing, I just dropped my spoon.'

'Well, no, I saw you throw-'

'I'll have to find it and pick it up, won't I?'

Jim narrowed his eyes. 'I… Suppose…'

Sherlock removed his hand from the other's lap and shuffled back in his seat. Jim sat back with a sigh from being released, his jeans were now uncomfortably tight and he fidgeted with a soft whimper. By now Sherlock was searching for his spoon under the table, at least that's what Jim suspected until the tablecloth was moved to cover his lap.

'Sherlock? What are-?'

Looking down, he saw that Sherlock was crouched under the table and was pushing himself between his knees.

'Don't give me away.'

'What?' whispered the other, however, he quickly realised. 'Sherlock, no! What did I tell you about being subtle? Don't you fucking dare try this, not in here!'

He was ignored; his jeans were unbuttoned.

'This isn't funny,' he continued shakily, staring up at the mumbling crowd, 'we'll definitely get caught like this.'

'I never would have pinned you as the nervous type, Jimmy,' teased the detective as he began to tug the hem of the jeans.

Their table was in the corner of the room with no one situated at any of the immediate tables around them; the closest couple was at least five tables away and even then a decorative potted plant obscured their view of the two consultants. As Sherlock untucked him from his jeans and gave him a few careful strokes under the tablecloth, Jim thought to himself that they could get away with it as long as he kept quiet. He restrained his moans as best he could however gasped and bit his lip when he felt his partner's tongue, made noticeably hotter from drinking coffee, slide wetly over the tip of his cock. Jim kept quiet and finished his tea, marvelling at his own ability to keep so calm during all of this. That only lasted until Sherlock took him full in his mouth and licked a thick stripe up his length.

'Oh, God,' he panted, reaching down and gripping to Sherlock's neat hair. He heard and felt Sherlock groan around him, the vibration was stunning, and he whimpered, briefly forgetting they were in the company of other people. When he remembered again, he felt restricted.

'Oh, my God, Sherlock, get up, forget about lunch, I can't take this.'

On hearing the desperation lacing Jim's voice, the other emerged from under the table immediately. Both fixed and tidied themselves up before making a hurried retreat to their hotel room.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the bedroom. Obviously.
> 
> 'You like it slow, don't you, James?'
> 
> 'N-not especially.'

The door shut behind the two consultants with a heavy clack of the lock as they stumbled into their room and fell against the wall. Sherlock pressed himself close and held to Jim, who stared up at him, panting lightly, with desperate anticipation. The detective smiled, thinking how funny it was to see the man who was so very much in charge, so very much in control, now so submissive. But then again, Moriarty was changeable; that was his one weakness after all.

'You know something,' Sherlock murmured, leaning in close to Jim so that their noses gently brushed, 'I could very easily have you right here.'

Jim whimpered. 'Anything you want to do, sir, I'll do it,' he replied as his eye lids fluttered shut.

_Sir? That's new…_

Sherlock smirked, kissed Jim softly but only briefly before yanking loose the zip on his hoodie. Jim tried to do the same as he reached for the zip on Sherlock's trousers, but found his hand being batted away.

'Not yet.'

Jim glanced up at Sherlock. The detective liked being in control, Jim knew that, he always had. Then again, since their little get together at the hotel began, Jim made a strong point that he would top and Sherlock, surprisingly, willingly agreed.

Perhaps, in certain situations, little Sherly actually likes having someone take control. How sweet…

However, Jim slipped up in the dining hall and there was no going back from it. He let Sherlock have a taste of what it was like to be in charge of him and Sherlock absolutely adored it. It will only be for a while and it'll be a nice treat for him, Jim thought at first, but the criminal had forgotten how persistent and demanding Holmes could be. Sherlock's craving for dominance quickly grew from there.

'Sorry, sir,' Jim sighed.

Sherlock nipped at his partner's earlobe and purred in his baritone voice. 'I do _love it_ when you call me that.'

 

...

 

It wasn't long before they were both entwined on their already untidy bed, emanating deep moans between frantic kisses. Without wasting anymore time, Sherlock discarded the last of his clothes and with a growl shoved Jim up against the headboard as he pressed himself into him.

'You like it slow, don't you, James?'

'N-not especially,' Jim groaned, blushing.

'You always start slow with me so you must enjoy it.'

'Oh, that's just- I do do that but- '

Sherlock grinned and kissed him, then proceeded to thrust excruciatingly slow.

'Sherlock, please- '

'It's sir, remember?'

'Sir. Please,' Jim gave in; if he was going to play submissive then he was going to have fun with it. He'd play on it as much and as best he could to tease his partner, 'fuck me, sir. Until it hurts and I'm crying for you to stop. I want- no, I need you to.'

The other stared at him, wide eyed and mouth agape with surprise; that was certainly not the Moriarty he was used to - although, he definitely could get used to… This suggestion he put forward, after all, was undeniably tempting. 

'Oh, I am certainly endeavouring to, pet,' he purred, ever so slightly quickening his pace as he dipped his head to kiss the criminal. Kissing back eagerly, the latter shut his eyes, squeezed his hand between them both and rubbed the tip of his cock with his thumb, making himself moan lowly into the kiss. Through his steady rocks back and forth, the detective watched his partner's blissful expression.

_Hmm… We can't have that…_

Without warning, he pulled almost the whole way out before harshly crashing back into Jim, whose eyelids then burst wide open with shock and who let out a cry loud enough to be heard from at least two hotel rooms away.

'Oh, you are divinely vocal…' Sherlock gave as a compliment as he nuzzled against his partner's neck and thrust hard again. Jim was reduced to moans and gasps now without any real words to reply with. The detective laughed wickedly as he groaned.

'Coping well?'

Jim panted and managed to strain, 'Shut… Up… Oh, _fucking hell_ …'

Sherlock also began to pant and sweat yet he kept going. Jim had told him to until he cried for him to stop and that was exactly what Sherlock was planning to do. He wouldn't waste a second of this, of being in charge, because he knew that as soon as he stopped and tiredly dropped back onto the bed, Jim would give a devilish smirk, tell him good boy, then the master would have his loyal pet back on his leash; that's what Sherlock thought, and this was just his treat.

A few minutes past and Sherlock's thrusts only became more forceful and frenetic. Jim clawed at the sheets, at one point pulling them so hard that the two froze when they thought they heard a tear, but laughed it off and kissed fervently as they continued. By then, the detective had pulled Jim closer by his hips and had angled his thrusts to drive against the other's sweet spot. It was enough to tip Jim over the edge and he let out a definitive cry as he came between them. Sherlock moaned as, not long after, he did the same. 

 

…

 

They were both tired and done, but especially the detective.

'Sherlock, it's two in the afternoon,' whispered Jim when he turned to look at him, who was dead to the world, 'you can't just fall asleep.'

Sherlock groaned.

'Aw, my poor, sleepy darling…' he stroked the detective's hair in a loving manner.

Sherlock laughed weakly and opened his eyes. 'You couldn't have been more condescending if you tried.'

As he sat upright on the bed he pulled the bed sheets over himself and stood.

'So, I should stay awake then, shall I? More coffee, James?'

'Sounds ideal,' Jim replied with a smirk.


End file.
